Porcelain Tears
by Black Violin
Summary: Popular gentleman by night, lonely doll maker by day. Tyki Mikk has become very bored with his life and seeks to bring one of his dolls to life. -TykixLinalee- -TykixLuluBell- -KomuixMiranda- -KomuixMimi- -AllenxRoad-
1. xxThe First Dancexx

**Title - **Porcelain Tears

**Author – **Black Violin

**Anime – **D. Gray-Man

**Pairings – **Linalee x Tyki

**Summary – **Popular gentleman by night, lonely doll maker by day. Tyki Mikk has become very bored with his life and seeks to bring one of his dolls to life.

**Notes – **Roses are red, violets are blue, I own nothing, so you can not sue. DISCLAIMED

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Dancing was a simple fashion that everyone enjoyed. The music, the swirling movements, the general mood of smiling faces and happy voices – all contributions to the town's nasty habit of night life. The dance was hosted by the town's mayor, the Millennium Earl. He wasn't considered much of a party goer, being that he only sat and watched from his high balcony over the banquet hall, rocking in his chair and knitting. His daughter, however, was often the life of the party. Road Kamelot was a clingy girl. She moved from person to person, easily striking up conversation. She was always hanging off some poor sap's arm while talking, and that person generally became her dance partner.

Aside from Road, Tyki Mikk was another popular figure at the nightly parties. He attended every night, whereas most people only attended a couple nights of the week. He was tall, well built, and handsome. He was not one to include himself into conversation, but the conversation always came to him. Women were always striving for his attention, and Tyki was always happy to give it.

One of the women he most liked to dance with was Lulu Bell. She was a quiet, confident lady who preferred suits over dresses. She was graceful, like a cat, and hardly spoke unless prompted to. It was rumored that Lulu Bell was sexually in love with one of her house maids, but no one could really confirm the truth of it.

"This night is truly too short," Tyki commented, stepping to the side so he was back to back with Lulu Bell in accordance to the dance and rhythm. They turned to face each other as the orchestra's tune gave hint to the dancers.

They danced in almost a man to man dance. Traditionally, the woman would place one hand on the gentleman's shoulder and the other hand would rest vertically in his. The gentleman would keep a hand on the woman's waist and have the other holding her hand in a horizontal way. The women would generally have less movement while dancing and the man would practically rotate around her.

Dancing with Lulu Bell was almost contradictory. They both danced like gentlemen, keeping their hands on each other's waists and resting their hands together horizontally. Instead of one rotating around the other, they hovered about

like opposite magnets and mimicked movements. Many disapproved of this kind of dancing, but Tyki rather enjoyed it. He loved how out of the ordinary the style was.

"It is," Lulu Bell replied as the song finished. She bowed and said, "I'll be going now, before my maid worries to much."

Tyki bowed in response, saying farewell to his friend. Another woman quickly took Lulu Bell's place as his dance partner. There was still a few hours left of the party and he intended to enjoy it.

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Tyki returned in the early hours of the morning. He entered his lonely little shop, feeling tired after the night. The bell hanging over the door chimed a greeting. The doll maker lit a lantern, revealing the many faces of the dolls he made. There were dolls of every shape and size. Some were small, meant for children, and others were life size, used by tailors and dress makers to display their craft. Some of the dolls were very pretty and some were very ugly, and some were not even human. Some could be pulled by strings and others were either limp or self-standing. Their clothes were elaborate, made to fit the personality of each doll. Tyki was very proud of the work he did.

"I'm home," Tyki whispered to the dolls, as if his voice might startle them. He made his way to the back of the store and creaked up the staircase to his room.

There wasn't a word to describe Tyki's room. It wasn't _cluttered_, nor was it _dirty_. It was both, in a sense, but to a slightly lesser degree. There were doll pieces everywhere. Heads stick on sticks (which allowed for them to be painted easier) was in one corner, leaning against the wall and waiting for a body. Miscellaneous arms and legs and other body parts were strewn across the work tables that lined most of the walls. Saw dust, porcelain dust, paint, and fabric scraps littered the floor. Tyki had a bed, but it was used for laying his clothes on instead of sleeping. He had a kitchen too, used more as a sewing area. Anyone would frown at the man's living space. Tyki, however, would not have it any other way.

If Tyki said that he didn't have a favorite doll, he would have been lying. Hanging lifeless in the center of the room was his only companion. She was a doll that he'd been working on for years. She hung from the strings tied on her arms, limp and incomplete, but still very beautiful.

She was the average height of a living human. Her entire body was made of porcelain, and her joints were connected with an almost elastic-like thread. Her hair was black as midnight, and about waist length (Tyki had gone to great lengths to find a woman with such hair, and greater lengths to convince the woman to cut it for him). He had painted the doll's skin a light tan, satisfied that the shade he had chosen gave her a dark looking appeal.

The only thing that was missing was one of the doll's legs, which he was still shaping to match the other, and an expression on her face. Tyki seemed to have some trouble imagining the perfect expression for her.

"It was a good party, Linalee," He said to the doll as he gingerly stroked her face, "I wish you could have been there."

The doll, which he fondly named Linalee, did nothing. Tyki supposed that was a good thing. Dolls were dolls, and dolls were not meant to do anything.

"But wouldn't that be great?" He asked Linalee as he changed out of his suit and into some clothes better suited for his craft. He looked at the doll again, trying to imagine what it would be like if she could dance, and laugh, and cry, and be human. Of course, she would look strange without a face, stumbling about with one leg. But he would fix that soon.

Tyki sat at one of the work tables and worked on Linalee's other leg. Soon, he was slumped over the table in a deep sleep.

As the skies outside darkened and promised storms for the coming day, the doll maker unaware that his dream was just within reach.


	2. xxThe Second Dancexx

x-x-The Second Dance-x-x

_The day was worn thin by long hours of hard labor. It was written across the face of a man who was clearly happy to be returning home after shedding his value in sweat. Komui Lee marched onward, away from the farms which he toiled over daily. They were not his crops, nor would they ever be, but he took care of them like they were. The pay he got was not very much, perhaps 5 or 6 pieces a day, but it was enough for he and his wife to live comfortably. Out in the countryside, jobs other than farming were hard to come by and most often they paid less. Komui was lucky, and he knew it._

_Komui always looked forward to seeing his wife, Miranda, at the day's end. He was often greeted with a warm hug and the scent of lilac that always seemed to follow her. Dinner would be on the table, and while he ate Miranda would show him some of the art she'd drawn. _

_Miranda was an extremely gifted artist. The way she used pencil and charcoal in a unique blend set her art apart from the others; Komui was sure that no one could match her talent. She especially loved to draw the town's children. They posed so willingly, all eager to have their faces drawn on paper._

_Komui chuckled as he thought about it, "It's a game, to guess who those little rats belong to."_

_As the farmer approached his home, he noticed something out of the ordinary. He couldn't quiet place it, but something was missing. He stood out front, trying to place it. The sun was bordering the horizon and a chilled breeze traveled up his spine. Komui shivered and shrugged off the strangeness._

_"I'm home Mira-" Komui stopped himself short. His heart dropped like lead. Everything in the house was in ruin. The table and chairs were knocked over. Fire wood from the fireplace was scattered about, as if thrown. Charcoal and graphite pictures were spread about like fallen leaves. There was broken glass everywhere. Nothing seemed to be in it's right place._

_Miranda was gone._

_Suddenly, Komui was watching himself run out of the house in a panic. He watched himself frantically calling out, "Miranda!"_

_Night fell, and Komui's other self continued to scramble about alarm and horror. It was easy to see his sickly pale skin against the dark backdrop. Komui felt his heart give a wretching twist, and his breathing became faster. Where was she?_

_"Miranda!" His mirror self shouted, "Miranda!"_

_"Find her!" Komui barked. It was apparent that his other self could not hear him. That made him angry, and he repeated himself until he was screaming, "Find her damnit! Find her!"_

_"Miranda!"_

_"Hurry! Find her!" Komui's body shook violently. A year's worth of tears poured over his cheeks. He knew how this was going to end._

_"Mi...randa-" The other Komui choked. He fell to his knees, burying his face into the dirt. The man's loud sobs of sadness and pain overtook. Komui watched his past through blury eyes as it slowly began to fade._

_Goodbye Miranda. Goodbye for good._

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Over the next week, the weather was awful. The sky seemed forever dark and gray as it attacked the land with bullets of rain and harsh wind. It was all very unusual for the town, being as it was extremely well known for it's sunny skies and warm temperatures. It was also well known as a good place for a poor vendor, who could not afford a shop, to set up in the streets. On average days, people would be scurrying from place to place, buying and hawking goods. One could imagine by now that the streets were empty, for no one was willing to risk being out in the nasty weather.

Tyki supposed this was fine, for it made him unable to open his shop and allowed time for him to catch up on the work he had so willingly put off. There were many dolls that needed to be finished.

It was a quiet. The rain and thunder continued to pound the land relentlessly. There was no human contact whatsoever. Tyki was becoming lonely, but even he would not brave the weather to go to the parties he so loved. Around midweek, a letter arrived for him. The carrier was a young man, probably no older than Tyki. Rain dripped off of his hat and his clothes stuck to his body. He was visibly shivering from the cold.

"You're absolutely drenched," Tyki commented.

"Sir, you are a hard one to find," The messenger replied, somehow able to control his voice from trembling. He pulled the letter from his jacket and handed it to him. It was damp.

"Is that so?" The doll maker asked. He invited the man inside to warm up and have some tea. He wasn't very good at making tea, but the stranger deserved some kind of hot liquid to heat his bones. They chatted as the kettle of water heated in the upstairs fireplace.

Tyki learned a few things about his new friend. The man's name was Daisya Berry. He ran letters about town for his employer, the owner of a well known bank. He had once lived at the small town that ran along the southern road into farming land. It wasn't very prosperous, so Daisya moved to the marketing town to work and make better money for his family back home.

"It took forever to find you. I was told that you probably lived on the expensive end of town," He explained, eying the mess strewn about, "But boy was that wrong! No offence," he added.

"None taken," Tyki said as he dusted off some stools for he and his guest to sit on.

"You do some fantastic work. It is all very real looking," Daisya complimented, still looking around the room. His eyes settled on Linalee, "I would get nightmares living in this place. It's almost like a bloodless, human slaughterhouse. You've got some heads over there, some arms over there, legs and torsos…and even a 'corpse' smack dab in the middle of it all. It's almost like a non-moving hell."

Tyki was sorry that he felt that way. This "bloodless, human slaughterhouse" was the closest place to heaven that he could find. Sure, there was no place like home, but there was also no place like paradise. "Non-moving hell" or not, he would never leave.

Daisya seemed like a very talkative person who freely spoke whatever was on his mind. Tyki was glad to have a visitor after being holed up in his shop due to the storms, but he wondered how the man could fit all he wanted to say into one breath. He felt out of breath just listening to him. Though he didn't appreciate what was being said about his shop, he listened without prejudice towards the man.

"This one is especially creepy," Daisya nodded at Linalee.

The doll maker put a sewn pouch of tea leaves into the boiling water. He sat on the stool and looked at his unfinished creation. He didn't see her as creepy in any way. Just in case, he tilted his head to the side, as if the new angle would show him what Daisya was seeing. No dice; he couldn't see it. Tyki finally asked, "How?"

"It is too beautiful. Even without a face, it is too beautiful," he said. He gazed with a look of wonder, awe, and slight disgust at the doll hanging from the ceiling. Daisya shook his head and turned toward the fire and away from the black haired creation. A shiver shook his body, "Any man could fall in love with it's beauty, and be forever entranced with a lie."

"She is lovely," Tyki agreed, brushing off whatever contempt Daisya seemed to have for the lifeless Linalee. The light from the fire danced on her cold tan skin and the shadows outlined her figure. He sighed and smiled, overly pleased with what he considered to be his best work.

Suddenly Tyki remembered the letter. It was a bit dryer than it had been and the wax seal easily flaked off. The ink was smudged from the rain, which Daisya quickly apologized for, but he could still make out the fine script. It read:

"_Mr. Tyki Mikk,_

_I do hope that this weather has not swept you away. Are you fairing well? Let us both pray for lighter rains and good health._

_I have written you to ask for a small favor. I feel it requires an open minded man such as one that you seem to be. Please send a reply to my messenger._

_As you probably already know, I have a maid whom I care for dearly. Due to some…complications in her appearance, she never leaves the confines of my home. She is a very spirited, energetic girl, but her confidence is extremely small._

_Given that the weather clears within the next few days, I will bring her to the mayor's gathering. The favor of which I ask is that you dance with her. Of course, it is completely up to you whether you choose to or not, but it would strengthen her self-assurance and it would mean a lot to me._

_Please consider it._

_-LuluBell"_

"I wasn't aware that LuluBell was a bank owner," Tyki said aloud after reading the letter. It never occurred to him to ask of her profession.

"She probably wasn't aware that you were a doll maker," Daisya countered, "Or I wouldn't have been looking over hell's half acre to find you."

That was probably true. Neither Tyki nor LuluBell ever discussed or complained about their jobs to each other. How were they to know what the latter did? It was almost comical to think that they had known each other for years and never asked.

Tyki passed a hand through his hair and re-read the letter. It seemed like a small favor and it wouldn't kill him to comply. He had never seen LuluBell's maid before, but whatever complication there was in her appearance wouldn't matter to him. As long as she knew how to dance, everything would be fine.

After digging through drawers and shifting through half the room to find a single piece of paper, he scribbled out his answer and gave it to Daisya. The man had waited patiently, almost amused at the doll maker's hunt. With the reply in hand, he stood to leave.

"You haven't had any tea yet," Tyki protested. He grabbed a cup from the cupboard and poured the drink. Green goop glopped from the spout and spattered into the cup with a sickening sucking sound and a soft _squoosh_. He looked helplessly into the steaming cup. The tea bag must have ripped.

"My apologies in not indulging in your…tea," Daisya said, trying very hard to not either laugh or turn green. Both seemed possible, "But I must hurry back."

Tyki showed his guest to the door and bid him farewell. When he returned upstairs, he sat at the workbench, looking into the cup. It was still steaming, but he couldn't convince himself to even try it. He was useless at making tea. He randomly tipped the cup upside down, just to see what would happen. It stuck to the bottom and nothing came out.

"Gross…"

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I know that the characters are out of character. That's because I don't plan on keeping this a fanfiction. Please don't hate. Read and review!!

-BV


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